


Summer Sixteen

by kelbivdevoe



Category: Gangsta. (Anime & Manga)
Genre: Beach Holidays, Gen, Platonic Relationships, Reader-Insert, Shopping, Summer Vacation, Teenage Dorks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-06
Updated: 2017-07-06
Packaged: 2018-11-28 08:16:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,490
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11413875
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kelbivdevoe/pseuds/kelbivdevoe
Summary: Beach episode. A silly sort-of sequel toTake Shelter.





	Summer Sixteen

**Author's Note:**

> Beta as always by my honey gem jewel [quassia](https://archiveofourown.org/users/quassia/pseuds/quassia).

Paul McCartney is singing in your ears about how things are getting better all the time and, for once, you can't help but agree with him.

It's been a year and a half since you've moved to Ergastulum and your job has finally -- _finally_ \-- blessed you with two whole weeks of vacation time. It's mid-July and the city is starting to get stiflingly hot, enough to make sleeping feel impossible and breathing a chore. After some research, you'd found a beach town about four hours away and immediately booked the first hotel room you could find.

As you shift the bag of groceries to your other arm to unlock the door to your apartment, you smile to yourself about the weeks to come. Nothing but sand, sun and copious amounts of alcohol. No job, no stress, no...

"Nicolas!"

The dark haired boy turns his head toward you, leaning over the kitchen sink with a chunk of his hair in one hand and your scissors in the other. He looks mildly confused as to why you look so upset, which sums up your whole relationship quite well.

You tug the headphones out of your ears and put everything on the kitchen table before walking over and pulling the scissors gingerly out of his hand.

"You should have waited until I got home," You chide, staring at the gap in his hair and wondering how you're going to fix it without making him look like Friar Tuck.

"I told him," Wallace calls from the living room, playing absently with one of the many hoops he's added to his ears over the past year. His voice has begun to drop a few octaves, something he's become endearingly proud of, along with the single chest hair he found last week and wouldn't stop showing you.

 _Should have made it an order,_ you grouse internally to yourself, pulling out a chair and pointing at it for Nick to sit.

 He sits down obediently and only has to look at you for your anger to dissolve. You find a dishtowel in one of the drawers and cover his shoulders with it to catch the falling hair.

"When did you guys get here?" You ask Wallace, tipping Nicolas’ head back and forth gently to try and get an eye for whatever you're about to do to his hair.

"About an hour ago. There was a shoot-up with some assholes downtown so we thought we should take cover here." He sounds tired. Lately he's been more sullen than usual, even with you, and bristles whenever you press him on it.

"You're really putting that spare key to good use." You smile in at him before snipping slowly at the ends of Nick's hair. Part of you wishes you had given him a mirror so he could see what you were doing.

"Haven't been getting much sleep at work lately." He gives you a hint of a smile, but there's something bitter behind it.

 

'Work' is your Wallace trigger word. It makes you make snap decisions, like a year and a half ago when you'd taken them in for one night and it turned into an ongoing arrangement. Now they're like almost like boarders...except that they don't pay rent.

"Why don't you come on vacation with me?" You suggest, hoping you sound casual as you continue working on Nicolas' hair. You tap his shoulder and give him the sign for 'vacation' when he turns around. He tilts his head to the side; it's obviously a foreign concept to him.

"Vacation...?" Wallace repeats, unsure. He reaches into his pocket for a cigarette. "Where?"

"There's a place called Poest a few hours away. It's right on the beach. I rented a car, got a room...it might be nice for you two to get away for a while too."

He's silent for what feels like a long time, looking shy when he does finally speak.

"But...we don't have swimsuits."

You let out a loud laugh so sudden it startles both of them.

 

///

  
It's just about night by the time the three of you pull into the hotel parking lot. You're running on empty, both physically and mentally, because what was supposed to be a four hour car trip had basically doubled when you'd stopped at a department store along the way to pick up supplies (and the very important swimsuits).

Despite giving them strict orders to stay with you as soon as you'd walked through the sliding doors, Nicolas and Wallace immediately darted off in opposite directions. All you could do was sigh and grab a cart.

It was close to an hour before you realized they were probably lost in the dense maze of shelves and displays, and you had to bite the bullet and go ask customer service to page them like a pair of lost toddlers.

"Wallace..." The man behind the desk droned into the loudspeaker. "Please report to customer service. Your...uh...mother? Is looking for you."

 _Mother_. You'd given the man a death glare for even suggesting such a thing. Wallace had laughed about it for the rest of the ride to Poest.

The two of you scoured the rest of the store looking for Nicolas and eventually found him sitting cross-legged on the floor of the electronics section, watching the same movie on six different televisions. You got Wallace to sign to him (angrily, you added) that he couldn't leave your side in a place like this. His response was to hold onto the back of your shirt and follow you around like a duckling. It seemed like he was at a loss about what to do with his hands when you'd made him leave the katana at home.

The swimsuits had been another kettle of fish altogether. Letting them find them own had backfired when you realized they knew next to nothing about clothes; Nicolas handed you a pair of red trunks that were XXL and seemed to think he was done.

"Here." You handed Wallace a pair of blue swim trunks that looked about his size. When you told him he had to try them on he reacted like you'd instructed him to swallow an entire mouthful of bees. Despite all the whining, he couldn't stop looking at himself in the mirror once he put them on. Nicolas was so pleased with the green and black pair you picked he actually asked if he could wear them out of the store. Maybe you had a future in personal shopping.

But now...all you want to do is sleep.

The woman behind the desk of the hotel spends most of the check-in process looking between the three of you, searching out a passing resemblance. You're not even sure how to explain the boys, so you opt to say nothing and hope Wallace smiles at her enough so that she forgets to ask.

The hotel room is nicer than you'd anticipated, with a small kitchen and living room added to make it look even homier. The king sized bed in the middle of the room stands out like a sore thumb when you realize you'd only booked it for yourself, but the boys don't look bothered.

"We should get some rest for the beach tomorrow," You yawn, as Nicolas and Wallace excitedly exchange a look.

"I've only seen the ocean in books," Wallace says, walking over and helping Nicolas get the couch ready by carrying over a blanket he found in the dresser drawer.

“ **Me too.** ” Nicolas signs, shifting the cushions to one side of the couch.

You smile a little as you rummage through your bag for your toothbrush and pyjamas.

"You guys are gonna love it, I promise." You turn and look at the couch, where Nicolas is already lying comfortably.

"I'm sleeping with you~" Wallace grins as if reading your mind.

You mutter to yourself the whole time you're getting ready for bed, and when you come out he's got half the bed hogged and a shit-eating grin on his face.

The first step before you climb in is to start constructing a pillow wall between the both of you.

"What are you doing?" He asks, propping his head on his hand. Nicolas is watching with interest from his nest on the couch.

"I don't know the rules about women sleeping with little boys, so..." You reply distractedly, trying to keep the pillow wall from falling down.

" _Little boys_? I'm almost 16!" Wallace scoffs, deeply offended.

"And I'm not," You reply, climbing into bed and peering at him over the pillow wall, starting to smile. "But you'll always be my sweet little--"

He whine-yells your name and rolls over, sticking his backside out in your direction.

You laugh softly and sign good night to Nicolas before reaching over and turning off the light, falling to sleep almost instantly.

 

///

 

The look on their faces when they see the ocean is worth every second of stress they've ever put you under. For the first time since you've met them, there's absolute innocence in their expressions. You wish you owned a camera just for this moment.

They help you carry everything down to the beach before you decide on a spot in the sand to camp for the day. Wallace looks like he's absolutely itching to run into the water, with Nick right behind him.

"Let's get some sunscreen on you guys before you go get your sea legs," You suggest, rummaging through the bag and pulling out a pink bottle of the coconut smelling liquid.

"I don't need sunscreen." Wallace waves a hand dismissively and you snort.

"You look the most like Casper out of all of us, which means you're going to burn the fastest. Come on, it'll only take a minute."

He juts out his lip but stands still obediently as you coat the parts of his exposed skin in sunscreen, relishing the fact he looks like he's about to die of embarrassment as you rub it gently onto his cheeks and nose.

"Are you done yet?" He sighs, cheeks flushed pink.

"Done." You nod and turn to Nicolas, who seems a little bit skittish about an extended amount of touching. He's jittery as you cover his arms and shoulders and peeks at you shyly through his hair as you cover his cheeks and nose.

 **"Thank you."** He signs as Wallace whips off his shirt and lets out a whoop before they both dash towards the ocean, happier than you've ever seen them.

 

///

 

You're snoozing in the sun with the book you're supposed to be reading over your face when you hear footsteps running towards you. Two sets are audible and you’re relieved at the fact that neither of them drowned while you were sleeping.

You tug the book off your face and sit up, blinking a little at the boys staring at you in your swimsuit like they just realized you're an actual human woman.

"Nice," Wallace mutters under his breath, grinning, before you tug the top off of your water bottle and send a squirt flying directly at his face.

"Look at me like that again and you're _walking_ home, prosti-tot!"

"Fine, god!" Wallace wipes at his already wet face before plopping down on the blanket next to you. Nicolas looks like he's biting the insides of his cheek to keep from smiling.

"Can we have some money?" The blond asks, reaching over and taking a drink from your water bottle before handing it to Nicolas.

"Yeah, sure...are you getting hungry?" You rummage through your purse and take out a $20 bill for each of them.

They nod in tandem, taking the money and standing up. Nicolas gazes in the direction of the hot dog stand, sniffing the air before they both head out. You lay back and put the book back over your face, still excelling at beach reading.

It's hard to tell how much time has passed when you wake up again, sitting up and trying to work out the kink in your neck as you look around for the boys. You smile as you notice Nicolas sitting by the water with a tiny pigtailed girl, probably no older than 4. He's helping her make a sandcastle, filling a bucket with damp sand and turning it over to make a thick tower. She's looking at him with sparkling eyes, the picture of adoration.

Nicolas is a good kid. It pains you to think about what he's gone through. A life without the ability to hear is bad enough, but a life without anyone caring about you is infinitely worse.

Wallace proves to be harder to spot but, when you do, you feel the increasingly familiar sensation of your blood pressure rising. He's talking to a middle aged woman sitting under an umbrella a few yards away, running a hand through his thick blonde hair as she titters away at whatever he's saying.

You narrow your eyes and climb to your feet, limbs stiff from lying on the sand all day. It's hard to stomp in the sinking surface but damn if you're not trying.

"Wallace!" You hiss between your teeth once you get a few feet away, sparing him the embarrassment of being dragged away by his ear. For now, at least.

The woman lets out a particularly loud laugh and you've just about had it.

"Wallace!" The volume of your voice surprises even you, and he finally looks.

"I have to go," He sighs apologetically at the woman before giving you a sickeningly sweet smile. "My _mom_ is calling me."

There's going to be a murder on this beach.

"You're lucky there are witnesses here. Are you seriously soliciting on vacation?" You growl as he falls into step next to you, looking as unbothered as ever with your agitation.

"I needed money," He reasons, and you consider slapping the patch of sunburn growing between his shoulders.

"I just gave you $20!"

"Yeah, but I gave it to a guy near the ice cream shop for the rest of his cigarettes."

"I'm going to bury you in the sand, Wallace, I swear to god..."

"You won't." He grabs your hand with his, swinging them back and forth absently as you walk together back to your spot.

He's right, you won't.

 

///

 

"Are you going to get mad if I tell you how cute this is?" You ask, sitting on the edge of the toilet as you grin at the two sunburned boys sitting in the bathtub, up to their chins in cold water.

Their arms, faces and legs have tanned rather well, but the rest of their bodies are covered in a bright red sunburn in the exact places their shirts had been covering.

"I'm gonna get you back for that when I can move again," Wallace whines, wincing as he sits up, while Nicolas attempts to read the back of one of the shampoo bottles.


End file.
